My father’s very existence is incredibly embarassing to me. He is the man who refused to shave his ankles during high school football (before pre-wrap) and so now has no hair on his legs from mid-shin down. How does he cope with this fact? By wearing his socks pulled all the way up. It looks stupid on NBA players, Dad. It doesn’t look any better on you.
This is a man who tells dirty jokes to my friends. Very DIRTY jokes. This is a man who eats butter plain, wears his dress socks with sandals and shorts, flirts with waitresses, wears the same Hawaiian shirt 12 days in a row without washing it, thinks he is Cliff Clavin (and that it’s a good thing to be Cliff Clavin) and blatantly checks women out in public and then says things to me like, “Boy, I’d like to punch her card!”
This is a man who I used to make drop me off a block away from the movie theater so my friends wouldn’t know he existed.
But I digress. I have two stories that were horrifingly embarassing for me.
First, when I was in 8th grade, my dad took me to the library to meet a friend to study. As usual, I evaluated his clothing before I would go anywhere with him. He had a white t-shirt, jeans and was freshly showered so his hair didn’t stick up like it normally did. Then I made him walk into the library before me so nobody would associate me with him. I met my friend and we studied a bit. Then she got up to get a book and a minute later I hear giggling from the row she’s in. She comes back to our table and says, “You have to see this total dork! He’s dressed like he’s stuck in the 50’s! It’s too funny! He’s so nerdy!” and so on, and on, and on about what at complete idiot this man was.
She leads me to the aisle and we peek around the bookshelf to see this freak of nature. But the only person standing in that row was my dad. So I say, “What guy?” and my friend looks at me like I’m totally insane and says, “That man, right there! In the jeans and t-shirt with the slicked back hair! RIGHT THERE!” and she points directly at my father.
Ah, yes. I had come to one of the major decision making points of my young life. Let me tell you, this was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. Do I A) Laugh and point and make fun of the goofy “stranger” and then somehow figure out a way to continue to disassociate myself from him for the rest of my life in order to stay friends with this girl, or do I B) Own up to it and admit that he is a blood relative and take my blows?
After some deliberation, I finally looked at my friend and, swallowing a big lump of fear and regret, said, “Angie…that’s my DAD!” And promptly wished for the earth to swallow me up.
Story # 2: Freshman year of high school, I was on the basketball team. Being as I’m barely 5’1" and have little hand-eye coordination, I mostly sat the bench with about 4 other girls who I had become very good friends with, since we all spent lots of time watching the rest of the girls actually play basketball. Anyhow, one day during a game, there we are, sitting on the end of the bench and looking at the spectators as we usually did. Generally we would make mean-spirited comments on how the less attractive or poorly dressed specatators were related to the girls who were actually getting to play. Then a man walked in and immediately grabbed the attention of everybody in the entire gym. Why? Because of the BLAZE ORANGE sweater he was wearing. Naturally, all my pine-rider friends latched on to this horrible fashion faux pas and said he was so bad that not even the girl we hated the most was evil enough to have such a moron for a father.
It took me a while for me to spot this freak of nature, because the only orange sweater I saw was, you guessed it…my dad. He was wearing this Broncos sweater the neighbor had KNITTED for him out of flourescent orange yarn. When I realized it was him they were making fun of, I kept my mouth shut. But at the end of the game he came over to hug me and there was no way I could pretend I didn’t know him. I am STILL hearing about that orange sweater from my high school friends.
There’s more, too. Just shoot me now.